


I swear that I will wake up next to you

by cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/cyclogenesis
Summary: Ashton can keep himself under control, prides himself on it, but maybe it’s been too long since they let themselves have this again. Meditation can only do so much. Sometimes Ashton just needs Calum too fucking bad.(Set during their June 2018 five day Turks & Caicos trip with each other.)





	I swear that I will wake up next to you

**Author's Note:**

> Underage content takes place when Calum is sixteen, which is legal age in Australia but adding the warning just in case!
> 
> This story would not have been written without the support and cheerleading of [Loey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird), who has my most grateful thanks.

Ashton snaps the lock shut behind their concierge, his shoulders tense, and tells Calum, “Get your clothes off and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t turn to look and see if Calum’s following orders, too focused on centering himself, breathing in the sea air through the open windows for a moment. He knows Calum has been just as wound up as he is, from the flight to Miami to the short but still too damn long connecting flight to the island. Ashton’s not a fucking idiot but it was a close call for a minute there whether or not he was going to ask Calum to just meet him in the goddamned airplane bathroom for a quick something just to calm his nerves, settle the tension, let him breathe a little. Ashton can keep himself under control, prides himself on it, but maybe it’s been too long since they let themselves have this again. Meditation can only do so much. Sometimes Ashton just needs Calum too fucking bad. 

He focuses on the sound of the ocean, knows it’s blue and vast beyond the villa’s front door but it can wait, it can wait. He kicks his shoes off on his way down the hall, strips off his shirt, passes the second bedroom where they had the concierge set Calum’s suitcase as if he’ll even step foot in there, as if anyone gives a shit whether they’re secretly banging each other or not. As if it’s anyone’s business that they let themselves do this when they can, when they have a week away somewhere beautiful beyond the reach of anyone but each other. 

Still the sight of Calum stops his breath. He’s naked, laid out on the bed with his legs spread, one hand on his cock stroking himself like he can’t help it and the other shamelessly between his legs, two fingers thrusting into his asshole. Ashton’s grateful for that, hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s trembling too bad to do it himself, his hands shaking just getting his jeans undone, nearly stumbling stepping out of them and letting the momentum carry him onto the bed. He lands on his hands and knees and Calum just spreads himself open, pulls his cheeks apart to show himself ready and gaping a little, pink with need. 

Ashton wants to do everything to him, with him, but right now all he can do is touch, his hands greedy for Calum’s hot skin, clumsy when he touches Calum’s thigh and pushes too hard, too eager to spread him open. Calum gasps, a hurt sound, and Ashton says, “Sorry, sorry,” soothing the strained muscle with a little pet. 

“Fuck, come here,” Calum says, laughing a little, giddy with it. He grabs Ashton’s shoulders to pull him in for a kiss and Ashton goes, bracing himself over Calum’s body, close enough to touch what skin he can but careful not to crush him. It’s easy now, he has the strength for it, for keeping Calum safe and close underneath him for as long as he likes, as long as Calum lets him. Calum kisses him hard, tangling his fingers in Ashton’s hair and holding him in place like he’s afraid Ashton will leave. He arches up against Ashton’s body, his thighs open and strong, clenching around Ashton’s waist, their cocks rubbing together. 

They could do it like that, frantic thrusting and come on their bellies like they’re teenagers again, needy and fumbly with each other in Ashton’s room after he picked Calum up from school, or a little drunk and desperate in Scotland their first real Christmas together, but Ashton hasn’t gotten to fuck Calum in far too long and anyway Calum’s already squirming under him like he’s trying to get Ashton’s dick inside him via sheer force of will. 

It’s an effort to pull away from Calum’s mouth so he doesn’t go far, meaning to focus and guide himself in but Calum gets there first, his hand hot and sure on Ashton’s cock, rubbing the head over his slick little asshole before Ashton groans and takes over, pushes in. Calum’s hot inside, wet from fingering himself open but not too wet because he likes to really feel it the first time, likes the burn of it. Ashton can’t take it like he can, he’s never been able to get off on pain but Calum revels in it, loves to get pounded until he’s hot and sore and so Ashton does his best to keep up, to give him what he needs. 

“Missed you,” Calum says, low and helpless on an exhale as Ashton bottoms out, buried as deep as he can go. He’s so tight and Ashton’s so hard that it’s almost too much, Ashton gritting his teeth so he doesn’t just start slamming in. 

Ashton wants to say it back - say something back, like that their agreement to only do this on vacation was stupid, that they should do this all the time, that they should walk down the street holding hands and kiss each other wherever and whenever they want, that Ashton loves him more than anyone he ever has and ever will - but instead he just strains down to kiss him again, their teeth knocking together when he thrusts. Calum’s heels are digging into Ashton’s ass like he’s trying to force him deeper, keep him inside, but Ashton’s going to fucking die if he can’t move so he compensates by giving it to him hard. 

He’s not used to the quiet anymore, nothing to drown out Calum’s ragged gasps but the ocean waves, the distant music of calling birds. It’s obscene, the sounds the two of them make, their skin slapping together, Calum stroking himself faster and faster as Ashton fucks out all his lust and need and desperation to be as close as he can get to Calum, inside him, lost in him. Beneath him Calum’s starting to quiver, his eyes squeezing shut as his voice cracks on a moan and he comes between them, hot white striping his abs and chest. He looks like something out of porn, better, like every one of Ashton’s fantasies since he was seventeen and saw Calum for the first time and felt an awful queasy knowledge dawning in himself that he didn’t want to face quite yet. Ashton’s gotten better about it, knowing himself, accepting himself, but he still hasn’t put a name to it. It’s just Calum. He just loves Calum. 

Calum touches his hand to Ashton’s cheek, strokes his thumb over Ashton’s lower lip and says, “Love you.” Maybe it’s that or maybe it’s just the look on his face, open and soft, that does it for Ashton, makes him come with a moan, turning to kiss Calum’s palm. It feels like it takes everything out of him to do it, Calum biting his lip and clenching down on him to feel it. He never takes his eyes off Ashton so Ashton stays looking back at him, at his dark serious eyes. 

“Love you,” Ashton says. It sounds as weak as he feels. He bows his head and leaves a kiss on Calum’s collarbone, careful when he pulls out but Calum still winces a little, still moves carefully when he shifts over onto his belly and curls up against Ashton’s chest. 

Calum’s always been the cuddly one, his arms open and willing whenever they needed him. Michael likes to use his friends as furniture and Luke is a curled up ball upon which cuddles can be performed when the spirit moves, but Ashton always preferred the way Calum just gives affection with his whole body like it’s an extension of his heart. He used to duck away, too shy to risk being seen, found out, but now he can’t help but go after Calum’s touch, dragging him close and taking hugs where he can get them. It’s a stopgap, every time, giving himself a little so he can hold off until they’re alone again, just the two of them. Just like this. Ashton holds him a little tighter, wrapping his arms around Calum and kissing his forehead, then his mouth when Calum nudges his face up for it. Everything feels better already. Ashton can finally breathe. 

“You wanna go check out that bar later?” Calum asks, settling back against Ashton, tracing his fingers over Ashton’s torso, mapping out the shape of him. They’d seen the place on their way in, a little ways down the beach. Calum’s always a sucker for the real island-y places with straw roofs and tiki torches. Ashton thinks the whole thing is a fire hazard, personally, but Calum likes sugary rum-based cocktails, so Ashton will make sure he gets all the sugary rum-based cocktails he wants, even when they’re bright blue and can’t possibly contain anything found in nature. 

“I can make you a drink here if you want,” Ashton says. He can’t make anything blue, probably, but he’s pretty sure this villa is pre-stocked with a selection of booze. It better be, anyway, they’re paying two grand a night for it. He slides his fingers through the curls growing out at the base of Calum’s skull, petting him. 

Calum leans back a bit, and Ashton immediately misses the heat of him. “You trying to keep me all to yourself? Afraid someone’s gonna steal me away?” He gives Ashton a flirtatious look, all batted eyelashes and pursed lips. Ashton takes advantage of the moment and grabs Calum’s hip, manhandling him over onto his back where he lands with a startled exhalation of air that turns into a laugh. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says honestly, because so what if he does want Calum to himself for a little while? That’s why they chose this place, for privacy and seclusion and so they can fuck as much and as loudly as they want without worrying about anyone overhearing. Without worrying about a single damn thing other than whether or not they can get it up again. Not that they’re struggling in that area but they’re not teenagers anymore, Ashton’s nearly twenty-four for god’s sake. Just between Ashton and his gym membership and his yoga classes, there’s a reason he’s trying to maintain his stamina and it’s not only for the sake of his drumming. 

He’s getting hard again already, still too keyed up to really relax. Calum stares at him blatantly, his lips parted, pupils dilated and dark. His cheeks are flushed from a good fucking, pink barely settled but now it’s climbing back up his throat, his skin hot to the touch when Ashton cups his cheek, slides his hand down and knuckles over Calum’s collarbone, rubs his thumb light and teasing over Calum’s nipple to make him twitch and gasp. He slots his fingertips between Calum’s ribs, pushing down on his skin to feel the spaces inside him, wishing he could get in further, know every part of him. He could fuck Calum every day and it’d never be enough, he could let Calum have him every which way in turn and somehow he knows he’d still want more, still always be grasping at Calum to get as much as he can. 

“I’m all yours,” Calum tells him, his voice hoarse like he’s already had a cock down his throat, like Ashton’s already fucked his pretty face and made him swallow his come. Ashton knows they could go down a really fucked up road with each other, Calum’s drunkenly talked before about collaring and cages and other things that made Ashton almost come in his pants just hearing about how much it turned Calum on. Calum brings things out in him that he never knew were there, things that freak him out and get him going. Ashton wants to be good, normal, live an easy life that no one ever asks any questions about, but every time he’s with Calum like this, giving into him, it gets easier and easier to forget that. It gets harder and harder to care. 

Ashton lets his mouth follow the path his hands have mapped, sucking a kiss into Calum’s throat, sliding his tongue between Calum’s ribs, teasing with his teeth like he might bite down. “All mine,” he mumbles, kissing just above Calum’s navel. He’s grateful for it when Calum slips his fingers into his hair, pushing a bit so Ashton knows what he wants, so he knows to keep going down until Calum’s cock bumps his cheek, smearing his skin with a little bit of pre-come. It took him an embarrassingly long time to feel okay about doing this, to get past his own bullshit and just admit to himself that he wants to suck cock, that he doesn’t just do it to be fair or to make Calum happy. He thinks about it now a lot more often than he’d admit to Calum even, jerking off in hotel showers on tour, wishing he had Calum’s hands in his hair and cock in his mouth, coming in his own fist remembering the ache in his throat the first time Calum made him choke on it. 

“Suck me, Ash, please,” Calum begs, so Ashton does, encircling Calum’s cock with his fingers and shifting so he’s at the right angle to take as much as he can. He always feels so clumsy at this at first, half-wishes Calum would be sterner with him, just manhandle him into place and take his mouth how he wants. Maybe he’ll join Calum in a neon rum nightmare later and get drunk enough to ask for it. He opens his mouth and sucks Calum down, pretends Calum’s hand on the back of his neck is heavier, more insistent, and lets the imagined pressure force him to swallow more, his mouth meeting his fingers where they’re gripping the rest of him so he moves his hand further down. Calum shaves down there, likes to be smooth and bare all over and Ashton appreciates it, the velvet softness of him, how beautiful he looks and now nice it feels on Ashton’s tongue. Ashton never thought he’d be into licking balls but that’s where he is in life and he accepts that about himself, especially given how it makes Calum writhe and cry out his name. 

He sucks hard, uses his tongue, hollows his cheeks and looks up at Calum because he knows Calum likes the picture of him with a mouth full of cock. Calum’s staring at him like he’s never seen anything better, his face slack with pleasure, hips starting to work in careful little thrusts that Ashton’s happy to open up for. The angle’s just starting to strain his neck a little when Calum groans, reaches for Ashton’s hand on his thigh and says, “Please, want your fingers,” so Ashton takes the moment to pull back and get some air. His cheeks are burning, maybe from the lack of it, maybe from Calum’s eyes on him like he’s what’s for dinner. “You look so hot like that, fuck,” Calum gasps, spreading his legs to let Ashton properly back between them. 

Ashton kisses his thigh, gives Calum’s cock a friendly lick and then rubs over his asshole. It’s still slick from before but he asks, “Want more lube?” just to be sure even though he’s already teasing there, dipping a fingertip in to feel him all hot and easy, soft like his body’s waiting for Ashton to come back inside. 

“Still got your come in me,” Calum says, pushing his ass into it, rolling his hips like he can force Ashton’s fingers back inside. “Just fuck me with them.”

Ashton gives him what he demands, thrusts two fingers in nice and firm, as easy as Calum said it would be with his ass all full of Ashton’s come, a little leaking out around his fingers with how hard he’s thrusting them in. It’s too hot, the sight of Calum’s sloppy little asshole giving up his come; Ashton takes Calum’s cock back into his mouth to distract himself so he doesn’t bust all over the sheets and get the teasing he’d so richly deserve for it. 

Of course he can still feel it, even more so maybe with his eyes shut and Calum’s cock as far down his throat as he can take it without gagging and embarrassing himself. He strokes Calum inside, his fingers long and thick enough that he’s made Calum come just from a good fingerfucking more than once, and soon enough Calum’s a moaning mess, shoving his ass eagerly down onto Ashton’s hand, fucking his cock up into Ashton’s mouth until he whines his name and comes. Ashton sucks him through it and swallows like a good friend who’s had a lot of practice getting decent at this, keeps sucking and fingering him until Calum gets squirmy. 

“Come up here, god,” Calum demands. Ashton doesn’t need much prompting to follow orders, leaving a kiss on the flat of Calum’s tummy before he rises up, stroking himself as he takes in the sight of Calum all splayed out and loose-limbed. “Fuck my mouth, okay?” Calum asks, already grabbing for him, his hands wrapping around the backs of Ashton’s thighs like Ashton needs the guidance to find his way. He’s perfectly capable of handling it from here, thank you Calum you bossy bitch, though he lets Calum get them adjusted, propping his head up on a pillow so he’s at a good angle for Ashton to fuck his face. 

Calum opens for him, expectant to the point of impatient like he can’t go another second without Ashton’s dick in his mouth. “I missed you too,” Ashton tells him, just can’t shut his dumb fucking heart up when Calum looks at him like that, his eyes dark and beautiful and his cheeks flushed with need still even though he’s just come. He can tell Calum wants to say something and he needs to not hear it right now so he rubs the head of his cock over Calum’s full pink lower lip and then feeds it to him. 

Always easy to distract Calum like this, it’s something that Ashton’s taken advantage of more than once when he felt too many feelings and needed not to be questioned about them. Lucky that they can just say they love each other all the time, that it’s basically the most romantic friendship Ashton’s ever had even when they’re not on vacation and fucking four times a day. Calum just closes his eyes and takes Ashton in. He’s always been good at this, taught himself to deepthroat scary quick, hot and rushed in Ashton’s childhood bedroom, pretending they were just experimenting, that it didn’t mean anything other than that they could trust each other more than anyone even back then. 

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, stopping before London, for the sake of the band in case they went wrong somehow. Just too much of a risk to keep it up when their lives were finally going somewhere, when they had this big opportunity. Besides, it wasn’t like they had to stop being friends or even stop loving each other. That, Ashton couldn’t have done. Couldn’t do even now, especially now. 

Calum’s greedy, his hands on Ashton’s ass pulling him forward so he’s forced to swallow more. Ashton braces himself with a hand flat on the headboard and starts thrusting, taking control of it, giving it to Calum nice and rough until Calum’s hands go slack on him, slipping down to just touch his thighs. When Calum blinks up at him his eyes are wet, and Ashton thinks helplessly back to doing this to him when he was sixteen, skinny and so needy for him that Ashton couldn’t resist, struggling to take it but desperate to, begging for it in the backseat of Ashton’s car, always turning up at Ashton’s house after school even when they didn’t have practice, so eager to roll over or go to his knees. 

Calum moans around his mouthful of cock like he can’t get enough of it, his mouth hot and wet, tongue working, cheeks hollowing. It’s an effort not to pound Calum’s pretty face until he gags even though he’d probably like that, so Ashton compromises by sliding his fingers through Calum’s hair and thrusting deep, his cock all the way down Calum’s throat, Calum’s nose pressed to his groin as he takes every inch of it, swallowing frantically, tears in his eyelashes. “So good, so beautiful like this,” Ashton gasps, can’t help but love it even though he knows he shouldn’t, shouldn’t love the sight of his best friend choking on his cock but he does, fuck, loves it and loves him. He thrusts in deep again and then shudders and comes as the tears fall and streak down Calum’s temples. 

He pulls back but Calum follows him, his throat moving as he swallows Ashton’s come, takes all of it that he can get. Ashton lets it happen, petting him now, stroking away Calum’s tears with his thumbs, caressing his jaw and throat until he’s too sensitive and has to guide Calum off of him. 

Calum looks wrecked, gorgeous, falling back onto the pillow with a little groan. His voice sounds hopelessly scraped up when he says, “Okay, you can make me that drink now.”

*

Ashton managed a thing with rum and pineapple juice and grenadine from the kitchen but Calum wanted more, so off they’ve gone to the tiki bar. Calum’s drinking something vivid purple, wearing a lei, and looking exceptionally pleased with himself. They have a corner table with a sweet view of the sun setting over the ocean, tinting everything orange and pink like a generously photoshopped Instagram post, but Ashton can’t stop looking at Calum, at the way the sunset light hits his cheekbones and throat. Maybe five days is long enough for a hickey to fade if he starts right now. Ashton’s fingertips itch with the need to get back on Calum’s skin and he wishes they could just bail and head back to the villa and lock the doors and never emerge again. He’d miss touring and everything, but surely the world would understand if they could just see how Calum’s collarbone peeks out of his shirt collar, and know how perfectly it fits the press of Ashton’s teeth. 

Calum raises an eyebrow at him, then plucks the hibiscus flower from his cocktail and starts eating it. 

“What the fuck,” Ashton says, bursting into laughter. “I don’t think you’re supposed to eat the garnish.” 

Chewing on a petal, Calum says, “It’s not bad.” He swallows, then squinches up his face. “It’s not great either. I just wanted to make you laugh.” He drops the half eaten flower on a napkin and takes a long sip of his drink, smiling brilliantly at Ashton around his straw. 

“You’re a ridiculous person,” Ashton tells him. “Just very weird. Not sure what your deal is. Strange guy.”

“God help me if even you don’t know what my deal is,” Calum says. He kicks lightly at Ashton’s ankle, his toes sandy from their walk along the beach to get here. “If you haven’t figured me out by now there’s definitely no hope for anyone else.”

They’re at a tourist-y bar at a private adults-only resort surrounded by mostly rich people, none of whom have looked at either of them once, let alone twice. Ashton reaches for Calum’s hand and covers it with his own and it still makes an anxious thrill race through his body, like they might be noticed, seen. 

It occurs to him then that that’s not even the half of it, what a dick he is for never considering that - jesus, that it doesn’t even matter that they’re famous to some people, that they’re still two men, that there’s even worse bullshit out there that they could come up against just for holding each other’s hands in the wrong place at the wrong time. His stomach lurches at the thought of it, at that ever being a part of it if they did live their lives together. As - as a real couple. Hell, it hasn’t even been a year since gay marriage was legalized in their own country, and there are still people who’d be happy to vote that right back down if they could. 

“Hey,” Calum says, soft and concerned. He keeps his hand still beneath Ashton’s like he feels the weight of it. “I was kidding. Trust me, you know me better than anyone.” Carefully, like he’s afraid Ashton will get spooked, he rubs his thumb over the side of Ashton’s palm, presses it to Ashton’s thumping pulse and keeps it there like he needs to feel the blood beating. 

There’s a lot that Ashton knows about Calum. He knows Calum’s favorite foods, his hobbies, his recurring dreams. He knows what Calum looks like when he comes and how to make him do it, how and where Calum likes to be touched. He doesn’t know - never been brave enough to ask - if it’s just him that Calum wants. It’s part of their deal with each other, that they’re together on vacations but never otherwise. He knows Calum hooks up with girls, dates them sometimes just like he does, maybe falls in love or doesn’t, but it always ends. It had never occurred to him that maybe Calum might someday get with another guy, that he might want that. Maybe he already has. It’s not like he’s afraid Calum wouldn’t be safe, that’s their rule with everyone else and if Ashton can’t trust him on that then he’s screwed, but it’s hard enough to stomach the thought of Calum ever marrying a girl. If Ashton someday has to give this up and let another guy love Calum like he does he just doesn’t know what he’s going to do. 

“Ash,” Calum says. He looks worried now. 

Ashton forces a smile, knowing it looks fake but unwilling to spend their first vacation day discussing any kind of horrible future where they have to stop doing this. He squeezes Calum’s hand and Calum smiles back, tentative but going with it, always good about letting Ashton alone when he needs to think. “Just got lost in my own head for a second there,” Ashton says, and Calum nods, looks pleased when Ashton threads their fingers together, a proper handhold on the table next to a chewed up hibiscus flower and a cocktail napkin with a gold palm tree outlined on it. “You still want to try those flaming shots? If we die in a fire then you’re calling Luke and Mikey and letting them know you killed us on our honeymoon.”

“They’ll understand,” Calum says, grinning now. He brings their joined hands to his lips and smacks a kiss on Ashton’s knuckles, then releases him and scampers off to the bar to order them a couple of fire hazards. 

Ashton scoots his chair away from the nearest overhang of the thatched roof and prepares his cloth napkin in case he needs to douse any flames. 

*

Ashton is very drunk. He’s very drunk and very grateful that their villa is an easy walk from the bar, and also appreciative of the perfectly cool ocean water on his bare feet. He’s glad that the tide is gentle, because if it weren’t and the ocean got frisky he’s pretty sure he would just let it take Calum and himself into the depths. They would make great mermaids. Calum would be like, such a hot mermaid. 

“You’d be such a hot mermaid, bro,” he tells Calum. There was a point at which they had their arms around each other, like normal cuddly drunk mates, but at an indeterminate moment they switched to just holding hands. It feels great. Ashton could hold Calum’s hand forever. 

“You’d be a hot mermaid,” Calum says, giggling and swinging their hands between him. “You’d be the king of all mermaids. Get you a crown.” He twirls them, pulling Ashton by his hand in a little circle, splashing in the shallows. Everything spins, and Ashton can’t help but laugh, steadying himself with his hands on Calum’s waist as Calum mimes putting a crown atop his head, then gets distracted and just pets Ashton’s hair. It feels like they’re all alone in the universe out here, the light and noise of the bar distant down the beach, no one else around this late from the other private beachfront villas. Calum looks in his eyes, his face soft and happy, hands linked around the back of Ashton’s neck. 

It would be redundant to tell Calum again that Ashton loves him even though he does with what feels like the entirety of his heart, no room left for anything else but this. Calum knows, anyway, he must know how Ashton feels, must feel something like it too, just the two of them alone under the starlight. 

The ocean rushes up around their ankles and Ashton kisses him. 

No one’s ever kissed him as well as Calum does, like they fit together, both of them wanting the same things from kissing. Calum’s lips are soft, and he gives himself to every kiss with an ease that makes Ashton want to give in turn, letting Calum lead and then taking back control. He’s open and generous and likes to bite a little, the drag of his teeth over Ashton’s lower lip making him shiver and cling close. In the warm evening they’d taken off their shirts for the walk back, and it’s perfect, so much of Calum’s hot skin for him to touch, the muscles of his back working under Ashton’s hands as Calum arches into him, pressing as close as he can get. It’s just hard to stop kissing Calum when he finally can, now that he’s allowed he doesn’t want to ever quit. He spends so much time with Calum, almost every day of his life, but he so rarely gets to do this and right now that makes no sense. 

He kisses Calum until his lips feel bruised and hot, until it’s impossible to ignore that they’re both hard, helpless for each other’s bodies. Calum’s cheeks are pink in the moonlight when he finally pulls away and says, “We probably shouldn’t fuck out here.”

It startles a laugh out of Ashton, and Calum laughs too, groaning a little, swaying back into Ashton’s space and resting his forehead on Ashton’s shoulder as he shakes with laughter. “You’re right,” Ashton says seriously, “there are places we just don’t need sand.” 

He giggles again and Calum pushes at him, raises his eyebrow and says, “Race you back to the house.” 

He gets a completely unfair head start because he’s a giant cheater, but Ashton still wins, and anyway he’s the one with the keys. He fumbles with the front door, and Calum not very helpfully assists by rubbing his erection against Ashton’s ass, waggling his eyebrows when Ashton looks back at him. “You’re not helping,” Ashton says. His clumsy fingers seem to have forgotten how to use keys. 

“Sure I am,” Calum says. He slides his hand over Ashton’s, steadying him and carefully guiding the key into the lock and turning it. It clicks open and Calum looks far too pleased with himself as he holds Ashton’s hand so they turn the knob together. “Who loves you, baby?” he asks. 

“You do,” Ashton says gruffly, letting Calum push him forward into the house and allowing it when Calum pats him on the butt. 

“That’s right,” Calum says. He gives Ashton a kiss on the cheek and veers off toward the kitchen. “Go lie down, I’ll get us water.”

Ashton’s urge to take charge and get his own damn water (and okay, Calum’s too) rears up but he sternly talks it back down, instead letting himself indulge in the hot little thrill that races through him at the feeling of doing what Calum says, letting Calum take care of him. He was a little sleepy before, from the shots and from indulging Calum in trying cocktails with shudderingly vast amounts of sugar, but his heart’s pounding again, his blood up, dick hard for whatever he and Calum might do. He can hear Calum moving through the house, checking to make sure lights are shut off and everything’s locked, so he takes the time to light a few candles, the match catching and flaring, wicks lit and the scent of sandalwood mixing with the salt air. 

He strips himself bare, climbs on the bed and settles in the center of it on his hands and knees, and bows his head to the sheets with his legs spread and his ass up. 

It’s not a long wait before he hears Calum coming down the hall, his footsteps quick and then stopping abruptly at the doorway. “Oh, fuck. Jesus fuck. Fuck, fuck me,” Calum says. A second later and he’s on the bed, his hands on Ashton’s thighs, on his ass, palm pushing up his spine and then cupping the back of his neck like Calum wants to feel every inch of his submission. “Fuck, Ash, you look so gorgeous like this,” he says, mumbled against Ashton’s tense shoulders between wet, sucking kisses as he crowds up close, his cock sliding into the crack of Ashton’s ass, smearing pre-come hot and slick at the base of his spine. “Let me eat you out, just for a minute,” Calum pleads, making a grateful sound when Ashton nods, a stiff jerk of his head before he hides his face in his arms again. 

Ashton’s not ashamed of himself for wanting this, hasn’t been for awhile now, but he’s still afraid sometimes of just how much he loves it. He could only ever let Calum do it to him, can’t imagine ever trusting anyone else to see him this way, vulnerable and needy like this. Calum licks over his hole and Ashton’s whole body shakes, his cock so hard that he has to take it in hand, not to stroke but with a stern grip to keep himself from coming. Calum moans like he can’t get enough of it, licking wet and eager over Ashton’s clenching asshole, fucking him with his tongue until Ashton can’t help his needy little whines at how good it feels. 

It still takes everything in him to say, “Fuck me, I want it,” can’t quite bring himself to say please or beg for it even though he feels like he’s going to lose it if Calum doesn’t fuck him right now. Calum swears, gives Ashton’s asshole one last perfect sloppy lick and then grabs for the lube. Ashton appreciates it even though every second between now and getting Calum’s cock in his ass is too many, he can take it but he’s sensitive, always needs more time and care than Calum does to get him ready. 

He can feel the tremble in Calum’s fingers as he slicks Ashton up to take his cock, his fingers careful but sure, still kissing Ashton wherever he can reach like he can’t bear to be too far away. “Okay?” Calum asks, sucking a bruising little kiss into Ashton’s hip, stroking two fingers inside him as if he likes the way Ashton feels inside, like he could do this forever. 

“Please,” Ashton grits out, just too hungry for it to go another minute without it even though he knows he’ll end up sore in the morning. It’ll be fine, Ashton can handle the pain just as long as they stay close to the villa and no one has to see him popping a boner every time he shifts wrong and his ass twinges with the memory of Calum’s cock inside him. He’s almost unbelievably grateful to finally feel Calum rubbing the head of his cock over his hole, clenches eagerly down like it’s inside him already and Calum must see it because he groans Ashton’s name and pushes inside him, slow and easy, filling Ashton up inch by inch as Ashton tries not to collapse underneath him into a whimpering mess. 

Every time it hurts, always too much for Ashton to take at first, his body still objecting no matter how severely he tells himself to relax, shut up and take it. God knows he loves to give it and it’s only fair, it would be fair even if he only gave it up to make Calum happy, to please him. He’s fucked Calum so many times and made him wait so long before he finally let him in when he was drunk and sad and needy in Bali. It took an embarrassing amount of convincing to make Calum understand that he really wanted it and wasn’t just on some self-destructive kick because of girl trouble, but he never regretted any of it. Calum took such care with him, still takes such care with him when he asks for this, and Ashton’s grateful. 

He’s grateful because he loves Calum and he fucking loves this, letting Calum inside his body, opening up for him. Calum gets as close as he can because he knows Ashton likes it that way, blanketing Ashton’s body with his own like they’re spooning, cuddled close, just Calum’s hips moving as he warms Ashton up with slow, deep thrusts. Calum slips his hands down Ashton’s arms until he’s gripping his wrists, squeezing a little like he wants something, anything, so Ashton cranes his head up close enough for Calum to nuzzle in and kiss his temple. 

“So good, Ash, you feel so good,” Calum murmurs. Ashton’s cheeks heat up with helpless pleasure at being good for Calum, the thought of it making him squirm, starting to work himself back onto Calum’s cock as well as he can all crushed to the bed like he is. Calum moves his hips back a little but stays otherwise still, letting Ashton guide it until he catches the rhythm, pushing deep when Ashton shoves back, helping Ashton fuck himself the way he needs. It’s not that Calum doesn’t love to fuck but he does love being used like this, Ashton knows that about him, how much it gets him off when he’s treated like a toy. Calum immediately lets him free when Ashton moves his hand in Calum’s grip, lets Ashton guide him down until he catches on and grasps Ashton’s cock. 

He just lets Calum take care of him then, Calum’s grip nice and strong, stroking Ashton just how he likes, fucking him nice and deep and hard so Ashton can lose himself in it. With his body in Calum’s hands he can finally settle, Calum’s perfect measured thrusts pushing his cock into his curled fist, slick with leaked pre-come. Ashton’s head rests on the pillow, his eyes open and hazily watching the glitter of starlight on the ocean as Calum takes his ass, gives it to him good until Ashton trembles and comes in Calum’s grip.

It feels like it takes awhile for him to come back to himself, Calum fucking him harder, chasing his own orgasm until Ashton’s thighs begin to feel the strain, his ass aching. Ashton’s just about to say something when Calum shudders and stills, hot wet filling him up as Calum buries himself deep. 

Ashton is, in the most youthful party animal cool guy way, going to pass out. 

“Oh my god,” Calum says. He pulls out and Ashton winces, carefully lowering himself to the bed and tugging Calum over the king size expanse of it so neither of them are lying in Ashton’s come. “That was so good I’m going to die.”

“Me too,” Ashton says. He reaches blindly toward the bedside table and retrieves one of the water bottles Calum brought. “Have water.”

“Okay,” Calum says blearily. He takes a long swig and then passes it back over to Ashton. “Want me to blow out the candles?”

“No,” Ashton says. “I want them to tip over in the night and burn the place down.” He rolls onto his side, extremely ready for a cuddle if Calum’s ever going to be finished asking stupid questions. 

“You are so lucky you have an incredible ass,” Calum mutters, but he gets up and blows out the candles, of course, and then gets back into bed and folds himself obediently into Ashton’s open arms. 

*

Harsh morning light streams through the window glass and for a moment Ashton doesn’t know where he is. He knows he’s with Calum even though he can’t see him, just feels him naked behind him, tucked close in a spoon, breathing hot and slow against the back of Ashton’s neck, still asleep. It seems like they could be back at their apartment after a long night out, partied hard enough to pretend they were too drunk to know better when they fell back into bed with each other, like they were out of their heads on booze and couldn’t help themselves. Ashton blinks again and focuses on the blue horizon, the sound of the sea crashing into sand. The villa, right. The bar, shots on fire, kissing Calum in the ocean, Calum fucking him so good that he’s reminded of it with - oh, there it is - even the slightest shift in movement.

Calum sleeps like the dead and cuddles like a weighted blanket. Ashton could very well be trapped here in this spoon for awhile but there are worse fates. The room is set at the perfect temperature for Ashton to enjoy the warmth of Calum tucked up behind him, one soft sheet over their bodies, and he’s damn well going to appreciate this moment. 

He tries to match his breathing with Calum’s, slow and even. It’s almost meditative, tranquilizing. Maybe he can convince Calum to do some yoga with him later, even though at the end of the day Calum’s just not very bendy and usually ends up giving up and then huffily doing a bunch of push-ups and crunches to prove that he’s in shape while Ashton moves peacefully into the child’s pose. 

It’s nearly nine, which feels decadent after weeks straight of doing promo, up before dawn sometimes for early radio appearances. He can’t remember what time they got back; though it’s only the first proper morning of the trip, everything already has that strangely grounded, eternal feeling. Nothing feels dreamlike or temporary; the days stretch before him like they’ve always been this way and will always be this way, waking up with Calum wrapped around him, a warm seasalt breeze through the open windows. It felt this way during Christmas vacations back home, renting beach houses with their friends, Calum and Ashton sharing a bed because they were best friends, right, of course they wouldn’t mind, it was no problem at all. It felt this way in Hawaii, every day long and easy, blue water and thick green forests to get lost in, sliced pineapple for breakfast, sunshine on their backs. 

They couldn’t swing a home on an island with their schedules, probably, but maybe a house in Santa Monica or Venice, or even farther up in Malibu so they could be closer to the mountains for hiking.

Thinking about that kind of future, how it could always be their present, makes Ashton’s heart hurt in his chest. He decides to stop. 

(They could raise kids by the beach. They could teach them to surf.)

Ashton shifts a little, hiding his face in the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut like he can block out what he’s picturing. The movement makes Calum stir, hugging him closer in the space between sleep and consciousness, plastering himself to Ashton’s back and ass and thighs as if even their skin is too much between them. 

Calum’s stomach growls in the quiet of the morning and Ashton bursts into a helpless giggle. 

Instead of rolling away Calum just clutches him closer in a hug of punishment. “Shut up,” he slurs. “I’m hungry.”

“I told you to get more than just an appetizer last night, onion rings aren’t dinner,” Ashton says. He, personally, got a chicken dish. It had an excellent mango salsa on the side. 

“You were right,” Calum says. He nuzzles the back of Ashton’s neck, then opens his mouth to bite down on the knob of Ashton’s spine. It makes Ashton shiver, even more so when Calum lets his teeth sink in deeper, hard enough to leave a mark if he kept going. Ashton’s planning to request exactly that when Calum pulls away and says, “You were right and I was wrong. Please go get me a banana.”

Ashton has more dignity than some people so he doesn’t make an obvious dick joke. He wants to refuse for the sake of it, but Calum did say please and Ashton feels personally responsible for having a civilizing influence on him and seeing to it that he becomes a polite young man. “You have to let me up,” Ashton points out. 

Calum, still wound snake-like around him, says, “Ugh.” He barely lifts his arm enough for Ashton to wriggle out, then curls back up clutching Ashton’s pillow. “Coffee too?” he asks, looking soulfully at Ashton with his big irresistible brown eyes. 

“You’re pushing it,” Ashton says, though he would, to be fair, give Calum pretty much anything he asked for, on Earth, forever. He wags a finger at Calum, but it probably comes off less stern than he’d like since he’s still bare-ass naked. Where did his underpants even go?

“You’re pretty,” Calum says with a dreamy smile. Calum doesn’t appreciate his admonishments at all. 

Ashton, pants located and put on for decency’s sake, leans over and gives Calum a little kiss on the cheek. “Coffee and a banana?” he confirms. 

“And berries if there are any,” Calum says, his face squinching up happily at Ashton’s kiss. “Any kind of berry. Black, blue, straw.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ashton says. 

Calum rolls onto his back, stretches his arms open wide, and says, “It’s good to be king.”

Ashton throws a pillow at him.

*

The fridge is beautifully well stocked and the one cup coffee maker easy to figure out; Ashton literally couldn’t ask for anything more. He slices up some strawberries and arranges them on a plate in a heart shape, then feels like an idiot and pushes them back into a pile in the center with a casual but still picturesque arrangement of berries surrounding them. He slices the banana only so Calum won’t pretend to go down on it. 

There are carved wooden trays for breakfast in bed so Ashton gets on with it and tries not to feel extremely romantic about everything. 

Calum isn’t doing anything in particular when he gets back in the bedroom, just lying there curled up on his side looking out at the ocean. It’s still a picture Ashton could get used to: white sheets pooled at Calum’s waist, his back and shoulders bare and body relaxed, waiting. There for the taking. 

“Breakfast,” Ashton says quietly, not wanting to disturb him, but Calum just grins at him when he turns and sits up. He sets the tray close enough for Calum to reach and opens the sliding glass door to let in the sounds of the morning. 

“You’re gonna make someone a great husband someday,” Calum says, tucking into the strawberries. 

Existential angst envelops Ashton like the tide and he tells it, fiercely, to fuck off. “All this and more could be yours,” he says. Calum gives him an appreciative once-over like he’s considering it. “You want to go swimming after this? What’s your vision for the day?”

Calum shrugs. “I figured we’d fuck again and then maybe shower. Then swimming? Come sit with me.” He pats the bed beside him, raising his eyebrows invitingly. 

“You should be a travel planner,” Ashton says. He crawls back onto the bed and wraps himself around Calum, fitting his head over Calum’s shoulder and reaching for his coffee. 

“It’s a good backup plan,” Calum says. He feeds Ashton a blackberry. “Not sure this music thing is gonna work out. What do you think?”

“Could go either way,” Ashton says. Calum takes a bite of banana and Ashton nuzzles his face until Calum gives him one too. 

Calum settles back into his arms, sipping his coffee. “You think that if not for the band, you and I would have still have met somehow? Just ran into each other in Sydney somewhere and started talking?”

“I’d like to think so,” Ashton says. It’s hard enough to imagine a life with someone else, but almost too much to think about never meeting Calum at all, never knowing him. “It would be pretty bleak otherwise. I think I could survive having a different job, but I don’t know that I’d want to live without you.” He tries to picture another world, another lifetime, going to uni, maybe becoming a teacher, playing down the pub with whatever local band would have him. Perhaps in one of those worlds he and Calum would be together for real, no band to complicate things, no agreements made long ago to only do this on vacation. A different life with a real honeymoon and a wedding to precede it. None of it would be so bad, as long as he had Calum. Nothing could be. 

“I think we’d find each other,” Calum says, with certainty. “You’re my soulmate. I’ll track you down in every lifetime if I have to.” He squeezes Ashton’s arm looped around his waist, tilting his head so he can look back and raise his cheek for a kiss, which Ashton gladly gives him. “I love you.”

Lost in visions of other lives, all Ashton can do is mumble back, “Love you,” and hold on tight. 

They sit in silence for a moment, looking out to the ocean. Eventually Calum taps his wrist in a gesture to the watch he isn’t wearing. “Hey,” he says, “we have a schedule to stick to here.”

“Do you mean the schedule you just made up where we have sex after breakfast?” Ashton asks. 

“Thank you for respecting it,” Calum says. Ashton appreciatively watches the stretch of his bare back as he sets the breakfast tray on the bedside table. “That was a wonderful breakfast, Ashton,” he says, somehow managing to make it graceful when he straddles Ashton’s waist, Ashton helpfully falling down onto his back. “Now, what can I do for you?”

*

Since Calum is such a masterful planner, Ashton leaves it to him to schedule the rest of their days on the island. Well, he lets Calum pitch ideas and then works it out so they’re fed at regular intervals and stay hydrated through all the fucking. The days blur together until Ashton’s gotten half-way decent at making ridiculous tropical cocktails, craving the sugar buzz and sting of lime, and how it lingers when he kisses Calum later, how the taste of the sea sticks to Calum’s skin like salt dissolving in Ashton’s mouth. They mostly keep to their villa, the world narrowing to just the two of them. 

A hundred times he almost says something. When Calum looks at him long and lingering, he wants to say it was a mistake for them to ever agree to this half-life of only being with each other when they’re on vacation. They hold hands when they walk down the beach and Ashton wants to say it doesn’t matter if anyone sees them, if anyone ever sees them; homophobes can fuck off and if someone found out, so what? Calum leaves bruises on his inner thighs with his mouth and Ashton wants to say they shouldn’t have sex with anyone else, it’s never as good anyway. Calum walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and toothbrush in his mouth and Ashton wants to get ready with him every morning for the rest of his life, wants to wake up next to him and know that they’re in it together no matter what.

Every time he puts it off, not wanting to screw it up if Calum says no. He’ll give himself this, one last vacation if that’s what it has to be, five days he can keep close and remember forever. 

On the last day Calum’s mood darkens. He’s clingier, slower to smile. Ashton convinces himself it’s his fault, that his lowered spirits are contagious. When he asks Calum if he’s okay, spending their last morning in bed before the car picks them up to head to the airport, Calum just sighs. 

“Feels like Sunday,” Calum says finally. “You know? Like back in school. The weekend’s not over yet but you know it’s almost gone. Everything is ending.”

“Little apocalyptic there,” Ashton says. He tries to keep his voice light, even though it feels like his heart is genuinely sinking in his chest like a stone in water. “We have things to look forward to. My birthday party should be fun. You can make fun of me for being elderly.”

“Yeah,” Calum says. He doesn’t sound too cheered by the idea. 

“It’ll be nice to get back to touring,” Ashton tries. “We like our jobs, remember? Living the dream and all that?”

Grudgingly, Calum says, “I guess. It’ll be nice to play the new songs. I’ll miss this, though.” It sounds final when he says it, and Ashton realizes with sudden horrible clarity that they haven’t discussed going on vacation again. Calum didn’t bring it up so neither did he. “Sometimes when we do this it just makes it harder to go back to not doing it.”

“I know,” Ashton says. 

They’ve been doing this for seven years. 

In the beginning he thought they were just experimenting, curious, and maybe they were for a minute - their first kiss was almost accidental, drunk on goon staying over in Michael’s granny flat, hyped after a good practice and giggling about something after Michael and Luke had already both passed out cuddled up on the floor. Ashton was still trying to get used to it, to them; their casual affection strange to him, not unwelcome but not something he had a context for understanding. He’d always gotten along better with girls, knew what to expect when they snuggled up to him, shy but wanting. 

It was different with the band, confusing; a surprise somehow that they even liked him, wanted his company even outside of working together. They were funny and sweet, easy to get along with, and Calum in particular seemed to adore him, always showing up at Ashton’s house just wanting to hang out. He’d never had a friend like Calum before, someone who could be a best friend, maybe, who he could really talk to. It almost felt like falling in love. 

Calum was a cuddly drunk, clinging and happy, his cheeks flushed and giggle high-pitched. He leaned into Ashton, practically on his lap on the old floral couch in the living room, hiding his face to muffle his laughter, his hand curled into a fist against Ashton’s chest. It felt good, too good, Calum’s skinny shoulders against him vibrating with mirth. Ashton couldn’t help sliding his hands up Calum’s back, pulling him even closer. When Calum looked up at him, his face full of joy and his mouth red from the terrible wine they’d had too much of, Ashton leaned in and kissed him. 

His brain caught up with his body then and he almost flinched away, but by then Calum was already kissing him back. Calum’s mouth was even softer than it looked, startled at first for the barest second and then enthusiastic, surprisingly so given that Ashton hadn’t really had any idea that this was something he could want, let alone have. He’d barely pressed his lips to Calum’s before Calum opened up for him, clambering onto his lap so suddenly that Ashton nearly bit his lip in the clumsy jostle of their bodies coming together, Ashton’s hands moving automatically to Calum’s slim waist to hold him still, hold him there. 

Calum kissed him like he did everything else: open and giving, eager, his hands cupping Ashton’s face an almost unbearable intimacy that made Ashton tremble with fear and nerves and need. He kissed Ashton hungrily, perfectly, moving on Ashton’s lap without grace or purpose, just feeling as much of Ashton’s body as he could. Ashton gave into him, let his own helpless need carry him through even as his brain distantly nagged at him that this was a bad idea, that they were drunk, that Calum was a boy, part of the band he loved being in so very much already. He pretended it was the wine clouding his judgment, let the pretense guide his hands up under Calum’s shirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin, the muscles moving in his back as he worked himself against Ashton. 

It was impossible to ignore the hardness pressed to his belly, Calum’s cock tenting out the front of his shorts. Ashton hadn’t ever thought about this in any substantive way, wasn’t entirely sure what the bases were for guys, if they were supposed to wait until they were ready same as with girls. It didn’t feel like Calum cared about waiting and right then Ashton didn’t much care either, he was as hard for it as Calum was and wanted to moan out loud with Calum writhing on his lap as if he liked the feel of Ashton’s dick too. 

Reckless need coursed through him. His hands slid down to cup Calum’s ass in his lap, guiding him to thrust with more rhythm, with intent. Calum pulled away and Ashton’s heart knocked in his chest but it was just so Calum could get a breath, their eyes locking and Ashton swallowing at the sight of him, his pink cheeks and mussed hair, his mouth so hot and kissed-looking. With deliberation Calum moved against him, pushing his ass back into Ashton’s grip, then grinding forward against the hard shape of Ashton’s cock in his shorts. It was too much; Ashton couldn’t look him in the eye, had to hide his face in Calum’s throat and then kiss him there, sucking at the hot salt of his skin, letting Calum clutch him close. 

Without the effort of keeping up with Calum’s kisses Ashton felt at sea, too inescapably present for the feeling of Calum’s body moving against his. Calum was going to make him come, hot and frantic in his shorts, and they could never take it back, would always have done this with each other. Ashton wasn’t a virgin anymore, not since his last girlfriend, but he knew Calum was, that he’d barely done anything with anyone. The thought of being Calum’s first anything gave him an unexpected hot thrill, knowing he’d leave a mark on Calum just as Calum had already done with him, with his friendship and affection and love. 

Calum started to make little helpless sounds, bitten off cries as he worked his hips in needy circles, riding down against Ashton’s cock. Ashton realized too late that he was probably giving Calum a hickey, that if they somehow managed to not wake up Michael and Luke that they might very well know anyway once they saw Calum’s throat tomorrow. Something in him wanted them to know, wanted them to see that he’d laid a claim on Calum too, not as his schoolmate or childhood friend but as something else, someone who got to touch him this way and make him feel good, got to make him come. He wanted to know everything about Calum, greedy for anything he could get. 

Calum began to tremble against him, clutching Ashton as close as he could as Ashton pulled away from his hot, tender throat, wet and red from his tongue and teeth. As soon as he did Calum’s hands were in his hair, tangling in and pulling Ashton’s mouth back to his in a kiss so hard and claiming it felt like it might bruise. He bit Ashton’s lip when he came, hard enough to make Ashton gasp but he let it happen, feeling Calum coming wet in his shorts, slick and hot against his stomach where Calum’s frantic movements had pushed up his shirt. 

The overwhelmed look in Calum’s eyes when he broke the kiss nearly undid Ashton. He was panting, his mouth so thoroughly kissed it looked like it might hurt as much as Ashton’s did. He looked down at himself, at his soaked shorts, then reached out and brushed the back of his knuckles over the firm shape of Ashton’s cock. 

Ashton was so ready to come that just that touch almost did it, then Calum got braver and fitted his hand over Ashton’s dick, gripping it through the thin cotton of his shorts, curling his fingers around the thick length of it and stroking once, twice. That was all it took for Ashton to come in his pants, hugging Calum close because he couldn’t look him in the eye, not while he came desperate and shaking, so easy for it that he might have been ashamed if he had the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure and a painful amount of awe. 

It would have been easy to put it down to a drunken mistake, and Ashton was ready to if that was what Calum wanted. He would have done anything to keep it all: Calum, their friendship, the band. 

Instead they agreed to keep it between them for awhile, to figure it out and then go from there. In theory that meant that they’d eventually talk about it, discuss what they were to each other, but it was difficult to have that discussion when any time they were alone with each other they just ended up having sex. It was a difficult discussion to have in general and so Ashton guiltily kept putting it off, thinking they’d really talk it out once they were clearer on where the band was going - but then Calum dropped out of school after Michael did. Then they were betting their futures and the rest of their lives on this band working out, and Calum was sixteen and Ashton was eighteen and teenage romances didn’t last forever. They just didn’t, did they?

There was no way they could have kept it going and secret in London, not sharing the same house, the same rooms. In bed before they left they had held each other close and decided to end it for the sake of the band. Ashton had been stern with himself, ready to be an adult about it, make the responsible decision and live with it, but he had still started crying when Calum said he loved him. 

A strange thing it was to feel like his world was ending just as he was finally getting everything he’d ever wanted. 

It didn’t go perfectly - they were young, and stressed, and on a new continent with more than a little pressure on their shoulders. They ended up back in bed with each other more than once, rushed sex in their tiny single beds on the rare couple of days when they were alone in the house, one night in the living room after they’d all gotten ahold of some vodka and finished it between themselves and Michael and Luke had stumbled away to probably curl up together and have their extremely cuddly bro chats. In Scotland over Christmas with Calum’s family they had fucked every night, waking up holding each other every morning. 

They stopped after that, occupying themselves with work, with girls, but back in Australia at the shore with their friends after Christmas they’d given in again. Then again the next year, then in San Francisco, in Bali, in Hawaii. At their apartment it was hard to resist each other so they mostly didn’t. 

It always seemed like the right call, to stop again. To get their own houses, spend some time out of each other’s pockets, living alone. Maybe it would have ruined anyone else, but they were stronger than that, too eager to have anything of each other to give it all up just because they couldn’t have everything. 

Ashton was always proud of them, is proud of them. How strong he and Calum are, to bear the weight of this and still find the joy in it. 

“What do you think would happen,” Ashton says carefully, taking his time to gather his thoughts. Against him Calum goes still, his body so noticeably tense that Ashton reaches automatically to soothe him, stroking his hand down the bare line of Calum’s spine. “If we didn’t stop. If we just got back and kept doing this.”

After a little hesitation, Calum says, “People would find out. Or they’d figure it out. We’d have to tell Luke and Mike.”

“I think they probably already know,” Ashton says. There’ve been enough close calls that they’d have to be stupid not to have figured out something’s going on. Of course Luke and Michael have over the years seemed to think pushing their beds together to share every night, cuddling literally all the time, and kissing each other as a “joke” is a chill and normal part of friendship. Ashton’s had his suspicions so he’s pretty sure they’ve had theirs. “What about everyone else?”

“Jesus,” Calum says. He pulls away and the loss of his body heat is immediate, devastating. Ashton’s heart pounds in his ears louder than the crash of the ocean on the shore, louder than the fans pushing air through the room, louder than the cries of birds in the trees outside the window. Calum rolls onto his side, facing away from Ashton, and all Ashton can do is stare at him, stricken, at the golden expanse of his back, his shoulders curved inward like he means to make himself small. “Is that what you want? Everyone to know, everyone looking at us?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says helplessly. “Aren’t they already looking? It’s not impossible, we’ve kept it a secret this long. What are you afraid of?”

Calum rolls back over to face him, his eyes wild. “What am I afraid of? Well, we’re either still keeping this a secret but working a thousand times harder at it, or it’s an open secret so we’ll be talked about constantly and everyone’ll be asking questions, or we come out and we’re that band with the two gay dudes in it and no one’s paying any attention to the music anymore. We’ve worked so hard, Ash. And how could we put that on Michael and Luke?”

Ashton swallows. It’s not like he’s wrong. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them, to put that kind of spotlight on the band right as they’ve thrown themselves back into the public eye. After all this time, maybe people would even feel like they’d been lied to. “Well,” he says finally, “maybe if we save up we can buy our own island someday.”

Calum’s face crumples, and for a horrible second Ashton thinks he’s made him cry until he realizes that Calum’s fallen into a fit of laughter. It makes Ashton laugh too, the absurdity of it, just knowing that Calum can still find anything funny in the midst of this. “Oh my god,” Calum says, giggling. “Our own island. You’re incredible. Fuck it, let’s do it. Let’s start saving. The Calum and Ashton Private Island fund. Maybe we can invest the money, build it up faster.”

“Thank you so much for finally listening to me about making some investments,” Ashton says. He grabs at Calum, dragging him close and unbearably grateful when Calum goes, huddling into his arms still laughing. “Excuse me for being a problem solver, Calum.” Feeling brave, he says, “If you don’t like my suggestions then fine, you take over. You decide where our next vacation’s going to be.”

“I hate planning stuff,” Calum whines instantly. “You know I don’t like making decisions.” 

With no small amount of relief, Ashton says, “Fine, fine. But at least give me a list.”

Calum agrees to that, thank god. Ashton takes the small triumph and tries not to let the melancholy in the back of his mind grow until it’s impossible to bear. 

*

Despite skating successfully past what could have been a much worse conversation, Ashton notices that Calum’s still quiet on the way back. It’s a long flight back to LA after they get to Miami, Calum with his headphones in so Ashton does the same and reads a book he can’t focus on. During the flight there they’d snuck a stealthy handhold under the blanket draped across their laps, but Ashton doesn’t try it again even though it would be a comfort if nothing else, Calum’s hand in his. They’ll get back home and Calum will just be five minutes away but he may as well be back on the island without Ashton, in his own house in his own stupid bed alone when he doesn’t have to be, when neither of them have to be alone. 

It’s late evening when they land, the sky pink and orange and the air so hot that stepping out of the airport is like walking into a wall even at sunset. They share a car back home, might as well since they live so close to each other, and Calum spends the whole ride looking out the window even though there’s not much to see, just the wide stretch of the 110 North, thick with traffic. Palm trees crest over the concrete walls caging the freeway in and Ashton wonders if Calum just can’t stand to look at him. 

The driver drops him off first, getting out to retrieve Ashton’s bags from the trunk, and in the last small moment of privacy Ashton wants to reach over, just grab Calum and pull him in by his shirt and kiss him so hard he’ll forget everyone and anything else. Calum looks at him with wide dark eyes and Ashton loses his nerve, just takes Calum’s hand for as long as he can stand it when Calum turns his palm up on offer like it’s all he has to give. He squeezes once, swallows all the words he wants to say, and gets out of the car with a smile that feels wrong on his face. 

He wants to text Calum as soon as he gets back into his big empty house, but he doesn’t. What would he say? It’s not like he made some big declaration, and if he made a small one it feels like he got his answer. 

He unpacks just to have something to do and then makes himself a drink. It’s the only thing available in his kitchen outside of some pita chips that have seen fresher days. He eats them anyway, sitting on his couch and feeling sorry for himself for quite some time, trying to figure out how much an island would cost, anyway, like on a basic maintenance level. Of course that’s if Calum was even serious, which, who knows? Ashton knows nothing about anything, ever, and it’s going to stay that way, because if he starts looking for answers he’ll have to begin with asking himself some questions. 

His phone buzzes with a notification but it’s just Luke asking if he’s back yet from his honeymoon. Why’d Ashton have to call it that anyway? It’s not like they’re married. He and Calum couldn’t be less married. They’re so single and uncommitted that they’re probably going to date other people and find love that’s somehow better than what they have between them and they’ll live happily ever after with not each other and it’ll be totally normal and fine and whatever. 

Fuck. Ashton lets Luke go unanswered for a minute, checking Instagram to see what his friends have been up to in his absence, or whatever the algorithm chooses in its benevolence to show him. Calum pops up first in the Stories tab and Ashton opens it expecting some heart-filtered shots of Duke (who, to be fair, is adorable). 

Instead it’s a short video of Calum in black and white, near darkness. He’s playing the guitar, a song Ashton doesn’t recognize. 

He’s captioned it “post you blues.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ashton says out loud to his empty house. 

Just - honestly. Before he can think too hard about it he replies to the Story with just “Dude” because seriously, dude. Calum replies spookily quickly, with “I’m outside” and then “I’m coming in” because he has a key, of course, and apparently can’t wait any longer for whatever it is he’s planning that already has Ashton’s treacherous, hopeful heart hammering in his chest. 

Ashton knocks over his bowl of pita chips onto the sofa and doesn’t even care, too ready to follow the sound of Calum’s footsteps, too ready to see him again even though it’s only been a few hours. 

Calum looks just as beautiful as Ashton hadn’t let himself remember, with his sunkissed skin and mussed hair. They meet in the hallway and Calum reaches for him, his hands sliding to cup Ashton’s cheeks before kissing him hard, as hungry and claiming as the first time. 

Ashton’s back hits the wall and he barely feels it, his body immediately drawn back into Calum’s, kissing him back as roughly as he’s getting it. Calum kisses him like he wants to leave a mark, make a bruise of himself to leave on Ashton’s body, and Ashton welcomes it, gasping bereft when Calum pulls away. 

“I don’t care,” Calum says, not going far. He kisses Ashton again, then again, his lips still brushing Ashton’s when he says, “I don’t care. Fuck it. We don’t need a private island.”

“The maintenance alone would be a fortune,” Ashton says, stupid and weak with the thought that he might be finally getting what he was too afraid to want. 

Calum laughs, pressing his forehead to Ashton’s, kissing his cheeks, his mouth. “I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you, dammit. I’m trying to tell you - let’s do this. Let’s not stop. We’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Ashton echoes. The words taste strange in his mouth, sweet, addictive. “I want that. I want that, Cal, whatever happens we can handle it, I love you, I’m in love with you too.” He kisses Calum again, desperate not to stop even though he knows he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to. 

He doesn’t have to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Canon things referenced in this story: Ashton saying ["Calum and me are about to go on our honeymoon"](https://tmblr.co/Ztp4ay2ZKEUCy) while they were playing their June 27th iHeartRadio show, the sole evidence we have that they were in [Turks & Caicos](https://tmblr.co/Ztp4ay2ZYOb1c) for those five days, and Calum's ["post you blues" Instagram Story](https://tmblr.co/Ztp4ay2ZYU995) he posted the day they got back. Title is from Talia by King Princess. 
> 
> This fic is on Tumblr if you'd to [share it](http://cyclogenesis.tumblr.com/post/176574323856/i-swear-that-i-will-wake-up-next-to-you). I welcome feedback and love getting comments! If you'd like to talk to me about this story, talk about Cashton in general, or just say hello, my [askbox is always open](http://cyclogenesis.tumblr.com/ask).


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